Pixilated (10 page)

Chapter Seven

Directly overhead twin suns beat down on
Kree's party. Wiping his forehead on his arm, he stole a glance at
his Wilderkin companions. Kayseri and Eldren had their heads bent
close, one midnight dark and the other moonlight pale. They were
doing it again, that thing they did, that thing so precious Kayseri
would not speak of it to him. She had picked Eldren over him time
after time since the elf arrived on the scene. He should be happy.
It solved all his Kayseri problems, but by Namar's bloody tears, he
wanted her to pick him. This made him feel foolish and it made him
angry. For reasons the captain did not want to examine, he found
himself awash in reckless raging white-hot fury for which he had no
outlet. He did not even know with whom he was angrier. Eldren.
Kayseri. Himself. He was pathetic.

His craving for Goddess nectar screamed
through his veins louder than it had in years. Three drops of that
golden elixir and he’d be flying high, mind and body humming with
sharp clear singularity of purpose. Just three drops and he would
feel the sharp fighting edge he remembered so well, an edge that
for all his skill, he knew he lacked without it.

Deprivation burned through every pore,
evoking a memory so sweet, he reached into his kit for the little
vial he kept there. A token, he told himself, kept as a symbol of
his freedom. This was a lie. He kept his Goddess nectar because one
day his own strength would not be enough to save those he loved.
Kree heaved a sigh. Today was not that day. He would not become
Goddess bound again when all he needed was a little
self-discipline. Kree slipped the tiny vial back into his kit, and
kicked up his pace, bringing Sirocco to a canter.

Where the trail forked to the left, he
stopped to allow the others to come abreast. A small stone and
timber cottage stood about fifty-five yards in the distance. The
stableman’s sorrel horse grazed in the paddock, and an enclosed
carriage waited beneath the branches of the lone shade tree near
the front door. A low holly berry hedge ran from the paddock to the
house. Otherwise, the approach was open all the way to a thin stand
of trees bordering the road on the far side. One look at the elf’s
anxious face, told Kree the elf princess was inside.

"It’s a sweet setup," Kree remarked to
Chana, since she was the only one who could appreciate it. The
sister nodded.

Kayseri asked, "My Captain, if you want me
to I could use mischief to scoot down the hedge row and look
inside."

What a stupid idea?
"You know I
don’t."

"But it will help, and no one else can do
it."

He hated it when pixies got logical. "All
right, sweetheart. We’ll come around and meet you in those trees
over there. I need to know the layout, who is guarding the
princess, and how the guards are armed. Can you remember that?"

"Yes, My Captain."

Recalling another occasion when he and
Lathan gave a similar job to a pixie, Kree had his doubts. "Repeat
it."

Kayseri rolled her eyes, obviously thinking
him dull-witted. "You want to know what the cottage is like inside.
You want to know the princess's location. You want to know how many
people are in there with her, and what kind of weapons they
have."

Kree grinned. He had underestimated Kayseri
again. He should know better by now. "Get going, little girl. We’ll
give you to a hundred count."

Kayseri slid out of her saddle and handed
Eldren her reins. She looked up at the captain. "Do you want
anything else?"

You
. Kree caught his lower lip
between his teeth. "Just be careful."

She beamed at him, looking happy for the
first time since they left Tarburg. "First chance I get!" Calling
up mischief, Kayseri vanished. The tickle of pixie mischief
whispered along Kree's skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake. He
rubbed his arm.

He and the others skirted around the cottage
to the opposite stand of trees. While they waited, he tied a strip
of cloth around his head to keep sweat from dripping into his eyes,
and worked a tight fitting pair of fingerless gloves onto his
hands. Using his teeth and free hand, he tied the four eyelets,
lacing them tight at his wrists.

Eldren whispered, "What is our next
move?"

Kree glanced at the elf. "I don’t know. What
spells do you have besides that fire ball?"

"My weak magic is purely defensive."

"It wasn’t really all that effective, was
it?" Kree shook his head. Personalities aside, he and Eldren needed
to work together for the princess's sake. Hell, maybe for the sake
of peace between humans and elves. "Your pardon, Prince Eldren, I
can be an arse sometimes. How are you with a sword?"

The elf prince shrugged his fine-boned
shoulders. "Compared to you? Worthless."

The captain studied the long expanse of open
ground sloping up to the stone cottage. "Somehow, I knew you were
going to say that."

"My Captain."

Kayseri appeared at Kree's side. He heard
her voice. He felt a crawly sensation on his skin, and then she was
there.

"There’s only one room and not much
furniture, a table and two chairs." Kayseri pulled herself back
into the saddle. "The princess is in the center of the room."

"Is Sandahl unharmed?"
Eldren pushed
at her mind.

"There are four men. The stableman, a man
dressed as a Templeman, he has five braids, a tall weird looking
elf, and a fat man in a fancy suit."

Kree nodded, impressed in spite of his
misgivings, especially by the braid detail. "Which ones are
guarding the princess?"

"The elf and the Templeman, My Captain, have
the poor thing in a cage."

Eldren made a strangling sound in his
throat, and Kayseri finally looked at him. "It does not look as if
she’s been hurt."

The elf stared hard at the cottage. "You
must take care, Captain. This Nhurstari is likely an
enchanter."

"Did you notice a back door, Katie?" When
she nodded, Kree turned to Eldren. "I want you to go around to the
back and hit the door with the biggest fire ball you’ve got."

"But Sandahl—"

Kree raised his hand cutting Eldren off.
"The biggest one you’ve got, Eldren, or I swear by my Goddess, I’ll
kill you myself. The diversion will cover our advance across all
this beautiful wide-open space. I want enough fire and smoke to
send some of them out to us. I want a big one, Eldren. Do you
understand me? A big one."

"May I warn my princess?"

"How would you do that?"

"By telepathy of course."

Of course.
The secret thing was
mischief and magic after all. Kree narrowed his eyes at Kayseri.
She was making a habit of lying to him. "Sure, Eldren, but do it
just before you cast. We don’t want her reaction tipping them
off."

The captain dismounted, adjusted the bastard
sword on his back, and removed a large axe from one of the many
loops and straps, which attached weapons to his wide saddle
skirt.

"Katie, once we have the princess, bring the
horses up as fast as you can. Chana, take out the mercenary. I’ll
take the mage."

They advanced together to a point just
inside the thin tree line and stopped, waiting for Eldren’s
diversionary action. Chana drew her sword, looping the sword knot
over her wrist. Holding the blade before her with her hands in a
prayerful position, eyes closed, she centered herself for
battle.

At her side, Kree went through his own
pre-battle ritual, drawing air into his lungs through his nose and
exhaling slowly through his mouth, purging fear with every breath.
Here was another chance to beat death. Goddess help him, he loved
it. He swung the axe, side to side loosening his muscles, getting
the feel of the weapon.

"Are you sure you can kill the mage with
that?" Chana kept her eyes closed.

Kree exhaled. "That's the theory."

The swordswoman cracked her eyes open and
slanted a glance at him. "Theory?"

Swish. Swish. Kree took another big breath.
In. Out.

"It’s all in the timing. Will he give away
his cast? I’m sensitive to most magic, so maybe. Will I have enough
time to counter if he doesn’t? No way to know.
It’s...exciting."

"Ah."

Inhale. Exhale. "This axe head is made from
lodestone. Theoretically, it will disrupt magic. Guess we'll know
for sure in a minute." Inhale. Exhale. Swish. Swish. "I'm
feeling...confident."

"Audacity. Well, that’s what counts." Chana
closed her eyes again. "Be careful."

"First chance I get."

There was nothing weak about Eldren’s magic.
When it came, the fireball lit up the sky like a third sun
resulting in a deafening explosion. Together they sprinted across
the open ground reaching the front door just as the stableman burst
through. Chana's stop thrust dropped the gap-toothed fool before
he’d taken two steps. The fat squire came next, tripping over his
man. Advancing on the run, laughing like a lunatic, Kree swung the
axe resulting in a solid satisfying thud. The squire fell, split
from clavicle to sternum. That left the mercenary and the mage,
even odds.

Smoke swirled through the interior pouring
in from the rear of the cottage. The hired man wearing Temple
braids rushed them. He darted around Chana, shouting, "I want the
champion!"

Chana's steel rang against his. "Life is
just full of little disappointments."

Kree sized up the Nhurstari magic user. The
elf crouched beside the cage, working on the lock. He kept darting
glances over his shoulder. Smoke stung Kree's eyes and burned his
lungs like demons. In the next few minutes he might die. He was
euphoric. "Stand away, Nhurstari."

Abandoning his task for the moment, the
Nhurstari stood, turning slowly. The smoke did not affect him
overmuch which was not good for Kree. He had inhuman yellow eyes,
cat's eyes, and he was tall, maybe an inch or two taller than Kree,
putting him somewhere close to seven foot. His challenging smile
showed too many sharp white teeth.
So this is what they look
like when they're not dead.

"You foolish, interfering round-ear, what
does this business have to do with you or your kind? Where is that
idiot Thallasi? I smell the taint of his inept casting."

Inept? He blew out the whole rear of the
building.
Kree could not smell Eldren's magic, but it crawled
all over him. So much residual magic in the air meant he did not
have a hope in hell of sensing this elf's cast. The axe would never
be his weapon of choice, but he had trained with it and he had the
physique to wield it. Axes required momentum much like his cavalry
saber. One did not just chop with it. Kree swung it in wide arcs
storing energy with every swing. His eyes fixed on the Nhurstari
hoping he could read the elf’s body language.

"What is this toy you challenge me with?"
For all his condescending taunts, the Nhurstari’s eyes narrow. The
elf sensed danger right enough. He edged around the cage trying to
put it between them. Kree could not allow that. He advanced with
careful measured steps, cutting off the elf’s retreat. His eyes
never left the mage.

The Nhurstari made a sweeping arc with one
hand as if grabbing something out of the air. The elf had fast
hands. Kree had fast reflexes. He charged, swinging the axe at the
elf’s head. His cross-sweep met the cast, slashing through a
viscous magical ball. The magic burst apart, but the splatter hit
Kree’s shoulder, neck and biceps. The expression on the mage's face
as he ducked under the axe, told Kree the casting had not perform
as expected. They hardly ever did, seeing as Kree was drenched in
Temple enchantment.

The magical splatter from the elf’s failed
casting pierced like icicle spears along Kree’s skin. Numbing cold
shot down his arm. Hells bells! What the spell was supposed to do?
Then the elf cast again, and Kree concentrated on his grip. The
fingers on his right hand were numb, but somehow he kept the axe in
motion. The next casting ricocheted off the spinning blade, slammed
into the wall, melting the stone.

The Nhurstari cursed him. Kree did not
understand his language, but his tone was universal. The elf pulled
a knife from the folds of his robe. A knife against an axe, one
could not ask for better odds. Just as Kree's axe reached the top
of its arc, the elf lunged, a blur of motion. Kree sidestepped, and
the razor sharp blade stung his ribs. The axe swung around, and his
cold numb fingers lost their grip. Namar's tears! The weapon flew
out of his hands propelled by stored momentum, and hit the elf with
the dull thunk of a butcher's cleaver. The elf’s head bounced off
the far wall. The axe skittered across the floor.

Coughing on the smoke, his right arm hanging
uselessly at his side, Kree retrieved his weapon. He was the
luckiest son of a bitch in the world. He nudged the Nhurstari's
body with his booted toe. "Huh, it worked." he said through lips
fast going numb. One solid hit broke the lock free, and Kree hefted
the princess against his shoulder sheltering her as best he could
from the smoke and the gore.

He heard Chana taunting the hired man. "Five
braids and this is the best you’ve got? You expected to fight My
Captain?"

He turned toward the door cradling the
princess to his side. "Stop playing with that fellow." He coughed.
"We've got to get out of here."

"Such a waste, My Captain." Chana knocking
the mercenary’s blade aside with a sweeping motion and blasted
thirty-five inches of deadly Elharan steel into the man’s chest.
She jerked the blade free as he fell, wiping it on the dead man's
tunic. "He had potential."

Chapter Eight

Kree stumbled from the burning cottage into
the sweet clean air. His lungs purged themselves in a coughing fit
that drove him to his knees. For a few heartbeats he knelt in front
of the cottage, his numb right hand dragged the axe.